Driving in the car a few days ago, Fearless and I were talking and he mentioned something I’d heard about before, but had never really thought about. And it’s been sort of stuck in my head since.

He brought up the idea that people look for people similar to their parents when starting relationships. The whole idea of a man wanting his lady to be like his mother. Not act as his mother, but to share some of the same basic personality traits.

He made an example of me, as well as another person he was with for a long time before I came around. First, that both of us have some common traits with his mom: a little bit shy, creative, like to spend time in the kitchen, and being kind hearted (though, if I remember correctly, he used the word softies).

I brought up the point that if people do look for their parents in their partners, what was I supposed to go off of? My dad died when I was very young, I have little recollection of him. How am I supposed to be looking for men like him when I don’t really know who he was? (Note: This was not brought up in any sort of woe is me, accusatory way. It happened a long time ago, and it’s not something I get really emotional about whenever fatherly topics come up. It was just a point to be made.)

Fearless said that my dad had been around in my life long enough to have made an impact, and though I may not know on a very conscious level the person that he was, on a visceral level I knew the type of person he was. And that I know things about him, it’s just that what I know I’ve been taught, I don’t know it first hand.

And much of that proves true: my father was a very masculine in the classic sense, he knew how to fix just about anything, was very much a provider/protector personality, loved being outdoors and working with his hands.

The type of man I generally get interested in is classically masculine, outdoors-y, a Mr. Do-it-yourself and it’s important to me that I get that feeling that I’m safe with them (not that I haven’t been wrong before).

So fine, he had a point. But then he pointed out that A, the other girl, and also had many similarities. And that’s what’s been sticking in my head.

Besides the obvious your last two relationships have been with Army men, Grace there have been some interesting similarities I’ve found between Fearless and First.

What has really been making it stick to my brain so much is their similarities with the one other person who I’ve been in a relationship. Now, I’m not going to mince words, he was a manipulative, controlling, violent person. It wasn’t good, or healthy, while we were together. I had been told often enough that it was, so I believed him, but that’s a different story for a different day.

First and Fearless both habitually are decision makers. This is not a bad thing, but when you’re looking at it, they are the person who generally takes control. I know that it’s nothing near the degree of controlling that this nameless person was, but it’s still a strange parallel.

I don’t think I’m going to go into this too much deeper here, but it’s just strange, when you think of it, the lines you can draw and patterns you can see.

Any of you out there looking for your parents in your significant others?

From what I’ve been told, the Carl Perkins’ classic Blue Suede Shoes (though you’ve probably heard it by Elvis, the Beatles, or Johnny Cash) was inspired by something Perkins heard a soldier say at a dance. Said soldier told his date not to step on his blue suede shoes, even though he was wearing standard issue boots, because they were visibly still nice and new.

Why would he say that? Not being a mind reader, I couldn’t tell you said soldier’s specific reasoning. Imagining though, one wouldn’t want their feet being trod upon. Perhaps he wanted these new, clean boots to stay that way while they could. That scuffs and wear just wouldn’t have the same effect. One will never know.

Still, this gets me to my topic. It’s one of my favorites: Panties!

Ladies, what is up with the sad, old panties trend? I know I am a little bit more of a panties aficionado than most, but the majority of people I have had panties chats with lately are confusing me. Bra chats too for that matter.

Statements I hear: Well, now that I’m in a steady relationship right now, I don’t really need them to be pretty. Orconversely, I’m single. I don’t need to wear things like that at the mo’. Perhaps the most disturbing, Well, they used to fit…

Whoa. Hold the line please.

Used to fit? These undergarments are referred to as the foundation of an outfit because they are just that, the foundation! You’ve got the right stuff on underneath, and the top layer will look right. Certain areas you may want sleeked over will be. Those of out there who may need a little bit of a lift or reshape up top can achieve it. If your foundation is wrong, you’re going to end up with lines showing where they aren’t supposed to, possible over emphasis of bits you’d rather not be drawing attention to, and specific to brassieres: possible back pain, headaches, shoulder pain, or poor circulation.

If it used to fit, that suggests that it doesn’t anymore. If it doesn’t fit, why are you still wearing it?

I’m single, I don’t need to wear things like that anymore: If you prescribe to the followers of ‘who cares if it looks nice if there aren’t boys looking at me in it,’ I guess you can skip over this bit. Not to repeat the above, all I can say is yes your cotton briefs with the days of the week on them may be cute, but your choices shouldn’t be all about what other people want you in. They should be more in tune with what makes you feel like the beautiful person you are, and what works with your body. You may not see them by the time you are dressed, but it’s the same concept as getting into outerwear that you love. When you feel like you’re the most gorgeous person in the room, you hold yourself differently, feel more confident, and it makes a noticeable difference. All I’m trying to say is that if you feel good, you’re going to look good. A person who truly feels they look beautiful have a certain twinkle in their smile. If pink Wednesdays do it for you, great! If you’re holding back because you don’t have an observer to confirm the other one’s are nice, let yourself be enough. The difference made may just find you that aforementioned observer.

I’m in a steady relationship right now, I don’t really need them to be pretty. If you say so, you do have a right to hold that opinion. And is true, a man should love you for you, not just your lingerie. I’m sure he does. Once again, the above applies, but I speak for all of the silent men out there: Wear them! They are very visual creatures, and it’s wrapping paper. You may have him, but there’s nothing wrong with treating him as well as yourself.

I’m not saying to ditch the grannies, if they do it for you that is good. Just give pretty a try, something old, ill fitting and ratty won’t do the job the same. Blue suede shoes just wouldn’t do with scuffs.

The Sandmonkey wrote a beautiful post a while ago, The Two Cups, that really struck a chord in my mind.

There was a particular man in my life, we will call him First, who definitely has a filled love cup in my heart at one time, but whose pain cup is kept at a precarious balance of full in proportion to empty. It was a cup he made sure to watch over, scoop off murky water when the levels rose too high, because he also had a love cup for me, and it is what a person dear to your heart should do.

The thing is that, those we love are the ones who hurt us the most, they don’t mean to (at least I should hope they don’t), but because of the love we hold for them, it stings the most and leaves the darker mark when they inflict pain.

First, not by purpose, but because of his dreams and his career and preparing to leave for a very far away country to go and save the world, kept the pain cup with his name on it filled to a level that had me feeling it all of the time. Day in and day out there was a throb from a wound which was trying to heal but couldn’t because it was constantly rubbed raw.

There is love, love that wipes everything else into details, love that lets me know that no matter what we will be alright because of each other. I fell into the Love cup he filled for me as if it was a well and treaded water happily, but situations beyond our control would add an extra splash or two of pain, tipping the scales to the Pain cup in which I was leaden and could not stay afloat.

In the end, being the man he was, he did not do well to feel his pain himself or see the pain in me and not be able to do anything about it. He decided for the both of us that no cups would be for the best. But that’s not really the way love works, is it? No cups is not a viable option, or at least between us it wasn’t.

For a while, it hurt pretty bad, without a love cup to look forward to and just a pain cup slowly draining.As they say, time heals, and as the last cup drained the hurt became less. But still, “Quod me nutrit, me destruit,” no?